Of Bombadil and Peredhel
by Meir Brin
Summary: Complete! "In those lands I journeyed once, and many things wild and strange I knew. But I had forgotten Bombadil..." -Lord Elrond Peredhel, 'The Fellowship of the Ring'
1. An Elf in the Woods

Of Bombadil and Peredhel  
By Meir Brin  
  
Disclaimer: If I were to own Middle-earth, I would not be writing fanfiction about it. I would be sitting in a hammock in a secluded forest drinking tea and enjoying my royalties. As I am not in a hammock in the middle of a forest, you can all assume that the Lord of the Rings does not belong to me. All Tolkien's, not mine.  
  
I do, however, own this plot. Mitts off.  
  
*********  
  
He smelled it. The gentle breezes brushing past him carried the distinct scent of it. Tea. Someone was drinking tea. What a peculiar thing to do in this old forest.  
  
Elrond tread lightly on the ground, his feet scarcely disturbing the leaves that cushioned his steps. There was a distinct smell of tea on the air, similar to the kind Gil-galad often had in the evenings. The Half-Elf furrowed his brow. The trees in this forest were far too angry to accommodate creatures in their midst. Tea? It couldn't be.  
  
Elrond chided himself for dallying and hurried his paces. Eregion was still a good distance away, and was not an easy journey. He remembered Gil-galad's message, and his own duty as vanguard.  
  
Celebrimbor had been very specific in his communication. The orcs from Khazad-dûm had invaded the Dwarves' realm, and were quickly encroaching upon the Elves' dwellings. So Gil-galad had...  
  
_Hold a moment, I must know. Who is drinking tea?_ Elrond thought, pausing to smell the air once more.  
  
It was then that he heard the voices.  
  
Elrond Peredhel turned quickly, his hand flying to the bow slung across his back. People here? Elves, perhaps? The forest loomed drearily about him, as if daring the Half-Elf to come a step closer. No, he definitely heard voices now. Elrond stood perfectly still and made excellent use of his Elven hearing. The voices were coming from the southeast.  
  
He took off at a sprint, his feet only barely touching the ground. The voices were becoming clearer, more distinct. They were certainly not Elves, thought Elrond. Elves did not have such deep booming voices, or make sounds like shaking branches.  
  
There, beyond those trees... Elrond melted into the shadows next to an old hemlock. Movement flitted at the corners of his eyes, a soft rustle of branches, an echo of laughter. Elrond tightened his hand around his bow. The forest held malice, yet not toward him. What exactly the trees were angry about he could not tell. Elrond edged his way forward and crouched behind a gnarled beech tree. Up ahead, the voices were coming from there...  
  
And he had the nerve to send me nettles! What nerve! I will never understand why I never left him sooner! boomed a voice suddenly from far away. Elrond craned his head forward to catch the rest of the conversation, stepping on one of the beech tree's protruding roots.   
  
My word, you startled me! exclaimed a loud voice.  
  
The Half-Elf jumped and clapped his hands to his ears, letting go of the tree as it writhed beneath his hands. There was a grating noise, as if branches were bending and twisting to come and grasp him. A steady crunching noise, and a loud Oh my! rent the air. Elrond jumped backwards and gazed at the large blue eyes staring down at him, his hand twitching nervously.  
  
He relaxed when he realized what it was.  
  
My profound apologies, Mistress Entwife. I did not see you standing there, said Elrond graciously, bowing in the manner of the Elves. The creature, which was indeed an Entwife, looked at him interestedly.  
  
she sighed. Through no fault of your own did you disturb my nap. My name, or the one which I will tell you, is Brethilas. And what would bring one such as you into these woods?  
  
Elen sila lumenn omentielvo, replied Elrond. I had not expected to find Onodrim in such places.  
  
Brethilas craned her neck around to look down at the Elf. Elrond had the sudden impression of himself as being very short. I would choose not to come here in most circumstances. Yet now I visit an old friend, and this place is his habitation. I would not inconvenience him by asking him to visit me at my dwelling, answered Brethilas.  
  
Where might your dwelling be? asked Elrond, now thoroughly curious. In many ways this forest was more suited to the likings of the Ents, and not the Entwives at all.   
  
To the east, and to the north. Wherever there is good earth, and lovely little gardens to tend. Fimbrethil has organized this walking party to visit our friend, and we visit him now, Master Elf, replied Brethilas.  
  
You may call me Elrond, Brethilas. And who is this friend of which you speak? The Ents must have come further north than I had known to inhabit these woods.  
  
Brethilas laughed, her red cheeks parting in a grin. No Ent do we visit, Elrond. Come, Fimbrethil is speaking with him.  
  
Brethilas took great strides forward, her bark-covered legs moving carefully to avoid the underbrush. Elrond sprang nimbly around her, moving to avoid getting stepped on. There was an echo of leafy laughter ahead of them, and the Half-Elf smelled the scent of tea stronger than ever. Brethilas rounded a copse of dense birches, Elrond running gracefully after her.   
  
Brethilas stopped. Elrond stopped. There was another burst of foliage-like laughter, and then Elrond finally saw them.  
  
Entwives. Some big and gnarled, others small with limber brown branches. Elrond had never seen so many of the creatures, though he had met a couple Onodrim a few years ago. They sat around a clearing in the middle of the forest, most in the upright state of sleep. Dappled sunlight fell through the trees, casting speckled shadows over the forest floor. At the center of the glade was a large Entwife in the form of a birch tree standing with her back to Elrond and Brethilas. In front of her stood a great slab of rock with logs propped against it, making a crude table structure. On the rock was a pot of tea.  
  
_I knew it!_ snapped Elrond to himself.  
  
...I told Fangorn that if he were to please me he would have to do better than a bunch of wild thistles. The Ent is very inconsiderate of my wishes. I know where I want to be, yet he remains adamant about the deep places of the wood'. Rustle my leaves! Is this an Elf in our midst? The Entwife turned slowly from her conversation with whomever and looked at Elrond. The wrinkling of wood where her forehead was smoothed, and she smiled kindly. It has been a while since I have last seen an one of the Eldar... She raised an inquiring leaf where an eyebrow was usually located.  
  
Elrond, Mistress Ent, Elrond Peredhel, he supplied.  
  
She smiled in a maternal sort of way and clasped his hand in one of her branch-like arms. Fimbrethil, Master Elrond. Elen sila lumenn omentielvo.  
  
_Splinters_ thought Elrond urgently. _I'm going to have very bad splinters._  
  
Will you join us for some tea? asked Fimbrethil, smiling cordially. We were just speaking of my previous companion, she coughed loudly.   
  
asked Elrond. Behind Fimbrethil he could not see another Entwife, but then again the creature might just be smaller than Fimbrethil, and be shielded from view.   
  
But of course, Master Elrond, said Fimbrethil, shifting her bulk to the side so that the other inhabitant of the table was revealed.   
  
said the man -he looked like a man, anyway- cheerily, waving from a tree stump set up in front of the stone slab. He was short, about half Elrond's height, further exaggerated by the presence of the Entwives and the fact that his feet dangled about ten feet above the ground. Clasped in ruddy hands was a cup of steaming liquid, and his red beard had absently slipped into it. A straw hat lay on the table next to him, with a white swan feather stuck into the brim. Iarwain sits with Entwives green, merrily, come, an Elf is seen! Join our happy banter, have a cup of tea, fol de rol o dillo dee! he sang.  
  
  
  
Eregrîf? Is there another seat near for Master Elf? Fimbrethil asked, ignoring her acquaintance's song. A large thorny Entwife plodded off into the forest.  
  
Mistress Fimbrethil, could you translate for your companion? prompted Elrond.  
  
Fimbrethil laughed merrily, a light dancing in her eyes even through the gloom of the forest. The hearing of the Elves has long since been impaired if they cannot hear the words spoken by Iarwain Ben-adar!  
  
The bearded man chuckled and said in his happy voice: It is no fault of Master Elf if my words cause confusion. Come, sit with us and enjoy the company! Fimbrethil and her party will be taking their leave tonight. It is our last chance for speaking; join our talk and be at ease.  
  
Elrond nodded, and wondered vaguely if he had stumbled into the abode of one not quite right in the head. Yet the thought vanished from his mind as he chided himself of his suspicion. Elendil had seemed strange at first, and had become a trusted ally. Of course, Elendil _was_ related to him. Distantly.  
  
Eregrîf had returned, bearing a long-fallen log in her thorny arms. With ease she propped the wood against the slab similar to the manner of Iarwain's. Fimbrethil thanked her as Elrond ran up the plank with gentle footsteps. At the top of the log Elrond perched on a branch that had diverted from the tree's main course. Fimbrethil used one of her more articulate branches to loop the tea kettle over her thumb and pour some drink for the Elda.  
  
Elven-man sits here by the willows, how came you now to Aldandillo's? Through forest dark and field so green, why is Elrond now here seen? sang Iarwain after a pause.  
  
Elrond raised a curved eyebrow.   
  
Iarwain looked distinctly disappointed, but not for long. He smiled again, causing dimples to appear in his rosy cheeks. What brings you hither, Master Elrond? he asked in regular speech.  
  
Elrond nodded and folded his hands over his longbow. My lord Gil-galad has sent me as the vanguard of his host to the aide of my fellow Elves in Eregion. The joy of our relations with Khazad-dûm has been broken by orcs from the deep. Many of the Dwarves inhabiting the Mines have been killed, and Celebrimbor has sent messengers to us at the Falas asking for assistance. My kindred in the east are being slain or driven off by these foul goblins; they may have to leave their land and their works if they do not receive other help. Therefore that is my cause: I am on my way to Hollin to aide the Elves there. Celebrimbor expects me within a fortnight, and after that will arrive the host of Gil-galad, led by Lord Glorfindel.  
  
Your overlord, Gil-galad. Would he not send more than just one warrior to herald the coming of his army? asked Fimbrethil pointedly, drinking from a bucket-like tea cup.  
  
Elrond laughed lightly, and promptly ignored the question. He had been secretly been wondering about that as well. Gil-galad had a great deal more faith in him than Elrond had of himself.  
  
Fimbrethil realized that she wasn't getting an answer and started a new thread of conversation. Burarum indeed! They have come everywhere these days. Our gardens have often been defiled by the creatures; we have made war on them many times. I wish you great success in your venture, Master Elf.  
  
Perhaps you would come with me, as Celebrimbor would happily accept any assistance. The orcs have burned many of Eregion's holly trees, he added, glancing up at Fimbrethil. If all that he had heard of the Onodrim was true, they would be excellent allies, especially if they felt that trees were in danger.  
  
The Entwife's shoulders slumped slightly. No, no. We have been far from our gardens long enough, and our orchards need tending. I must return to my dependents before the blossoms drop from their branches.  
  
Elrond nodded slowly. He turned his attention to Iarwain, almost dreading what he would say, and whether he would be able to understand him through his thick country accent.  
  
Iarwain didn't speak or sing. He had his head cocked to one side, and appeared to be looking at the foliage on a nearby oak tree. Elrond stared at him, still not sure of what to make of the little man. Does this not trouble you, to hear of the misfortunes of others? Elrond asked incredulously.  
  
Iarwain blinked slowly, and smiled. So long have I been here that I do not trouble myself worrying about goings-on outside these forests.  
  
And how long would that be? asked Elrond, a bite of impatience in his voice. Though still a relatively young Elf, he doubted that the man had lived longer than he. Iarwain's reasons seemed rather like an apathetic Man, who sought to leave the troubles of the world to the younger generations.  
  
Iarwain shook his head knowingly, as if having read Elrond's mind. You doubt my longevity, it seems! he laughed, leaning back in his branch. Part of his beard flopped out of his tea and left a wet stain on the gray stone table. I have dwelt here far longer than thee, Master Elf. Long before Luthien Tinuviel danced in Neldoreth, and before the Elves journeyed through my forest to Aman for the first time. I have been here far longer than your kind, Master Elrond, and I will stay here a great deal longer. Then he smiled and climbed from his perch onto the slab-like table, ignoring Elrond's puzzled look.  
  
_What is this? Have I succumbed to a waking dream? A waking nightmare? Where yokels claim the mastery of Arda?_ he thought.  
  
Ho! Iarwain! Master Aldandillo! Bright blue his jacket is and his boots are yellow! Don't question old Iarwain, he is the master! Not of Arda, Master Elf, that would bode disaster! sang the funny man, skipping around the table as Fimbrethil laughed delightedly.  
  
_So he can read my thoughts. I cannot say I like this man at all,_ thought Elrond Peredhel.   
  
Iarwain stopped his dancing and looked at the sullen elf. He again launched into song: Iarwain never guesses thoughts, Master Peredhello! Very plain is your face to read to Master Aldandillo!  
  
Elrond grit his teeth frustratedly. Normally he prided himself on his patience, for as one of the Elven-kindred he had a great deal of time to work with (all eternity, as a matter of fact). Yet this, this, _being_, Iarwain-   
  
sighed Fimbrethil, interrupting Elrond's mental frustration rant. The sun has nearly set behind the trees, and we must pass through the grassy land before the Men awake in the morning and think we up to mischief. Good pupils in the ways of growing things, yet always suspicious of the things about which they know not.  
  
Iarwain cocked his head slightly, and looked imploringly at his company. Now don't be hasty, Fimbrethil my lassie! Come, spend more time here in my glade! There are yet more songs to sing of the Elder days, protested he, walking across the table to stare up at the Entwife.  
  
Fimbrethil laughed, yet there was a hint of annoyance in her eyes. You sound much like Fangorn, Iarwain Ben-adar. But no, we must be leaving for our gardens in the south. Come, Glothriwen, Brethilas! Wake the others!  
  
The Entwife who has brought Elrond to the clearing shifted her legs back and forth as if stretching. Elrond watched as she went one by one to the other Entwives (and some trees that Elrond had not realized were Entwives) and spoke softly to them in their own tongue.  
  
The other Entwife Fimbrethil had called to, Glothriwen, a white birch tree-shaped Entwife, plodded off in a northerly direction. Elrond could hear the distant splashing of water and suspected that there was a brook that way. He watched the Entwife go, and then turned his attention to examining his longbow. He certainly did not want to speak with Iarwain any longer.  
  
At that time Iarwain was chatting jovially with Fimbrethil in a voice barely above a murmur. Despite this, Elrond could hear their conversation quite clearly.  
  
You must give my farewell to Goldberry at home, Iarwain. I fear that much may have been done to our orchards in my absence; I regret now only leaving Sawlend and Thônorn to watch over our fields, said Fimbrethil worryingly.  
  
Iarwain nodded, though the light of happiness and contentment remained in his eyes. Fair Goldberry, River-Woman's daughter, beloved since first we met by the blue water. Sad to see you leaving, forever will be, Fimbrethil, young lassie, fol o rillo and dee.  
  
Fimbrethil smiled at her eccentric friend and patted him gently on the head. Perhaps again we will meet, Iarwain Aldandil.  
  
At that moment an Entwife bounded into the clearing, pursued by a very old willow tree. Glothriwen trailed behind them, her yellow eyes searching the clearing before finding Fimbrethil. A Huorn has become enamored of Tathargalen, explained Glothriwen slowly.  
  
Tathargalen, the Entwife being chased, dashed forward and dodged behind Fimbrethil. Elrond felt mild shock run through him as he watched Fimbrethil tell off the old willow tree that was trailing her. Though he had experienced many things, he had yet to see the trees berate each other.   
  
...filthy old willow! You should know better than to behave like that around an Entwife! If I here one more thing about you trying to waylay innocent travelers I will come back and make sure you stay in line! shrieked Fimbrethil, shaking a curled up branch at the willow.  
  
The Huorn shrank away from the clearing grudgingly, trailing long willow-vines on the ground after him. Glothriwen stepped aside as he crept out of the clearing, and swatted angrily at one of the Huorn's vines as he tried to feel up her leg.  
  
Honestly! I have never seen a Huorn with such a filthy mind! You keep an eye on him, Iarwain. If that creature doesn't keep his branches to himself, you tell him I shall come back and skin his roots off! stated Fimbrethil angrily, glaring at the willow as it slunk away.  
  
Elrond bit the inside of his lip to stop from laughing outright. Commander Entwife, stationing a lunatic to guard a crazed Huorn. Not a sight one sees every day.   
  
Tathargalen then moved out of the shadows of Fimbrethil and joined the other Entwives. Iarwain parted his lips to sing a farewell.  
  
Mistress Entwife, fare thee well!  
Meet we again in glen or dell!  
Care for thine gardens, may they grow tall!  
Let them bear fruits and blossoms for all!  
Journey as thou wilt, through mire and hay,  
Iarwain will be here, until the end of days!   
  
Fimbrethil smiled fondly at the small red-haired man and took her first steps northward. Elrond watched her leave, until even his Elven eyes could not pick out her form through the darkness of the forest. Oh, wait...  
  
That left him alone with...  
  
Iarwain Ben-adar's a merry fellow! Bright blue his jacket is and his boots are yellow! Come merry Elf-man happily sing! We'll run through the forest like birds on the wing!  
  
*********  
  
Author's Notes: For those of you who have not guessed, Iarwain Ben-adar is Tom Bombadil's Elvish name. This meeting between Iarwain and Elrond is alluded to in Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring' during The Council of Elrond.   
  
Much of my gratitude goes to Thalia Weaver, who beta'd this whole fanfiction wonderfully and helped with information about the Entwives. *throws cookies*  
  
is an epithet which I believe fits Iarwain nicely, meaning . Thanks also to Hellga for all of the help with the names!  
  
In the next chapter: Iarwain takes Elrond meets Goldberry! See sparks fly as personalities clash! Feel the frustration of Elrond! Experience the friction as personalities grate together! Read, review, enjoy!


	2. Meeting Goldberry

Elrond had to stoop to enter Iarwain's house, and still had to cock his head to the side once he had come in. Lamps were swinging from the wooden ceiling, and though they gave off a pleasant light Elrond could not help but feel a great foreboding about this method of illumination.  
  
_I am most certainly going to crack my head on one of those before the night is out,_ thought Master Peredhel, glaring at a particularly ornate candelabra. _And I will most definitely have a crick in my neck after meditation._  
  
A great sigh rippled through Elrond's large frame. Why had he become so cynical all of a sudden? Ever since he had met that- that- _Iarwain_ fellow, he hadn't been able to think properly. It was as if all of his self-control and patience had evaporated, and left him with the bare essentials of his personality. _How does he_ get to me _so much?_ thought the Half-Elf.  
  
Fair Goldberry! Here we be! A visitor comes to dine with thee! Elrond Peredhello, sit and stay, we shall sing joyfully to chase the night away! came Iarwain's rustic voice.   
  
Elrond turned unhappily and smiled at the little fellow who had brought him here in the first place. He had tried and tried to explain what a hurry he was in -Celebrimbor couldn't hold out forever- to Iarwain, but the reply had always been the same. No. Although it had been in considerably more melodious syllables. Elrond sighed. Gil-galad would always say that unwanted house guests could plague an Elf's existence -look at what happened in Gondolin. But now Elrond was a _wanted_ guest. And as an Elf-lord he could not refuse such kind hospitality, no matter how unwanted it was. He could at least maintain his manners, he would not be rude, manners, no rudeness, manners, no rudeness...  
  
Something around his waist giggled. Elrond started. Then something pinched his arm hard and, with a flash of green and gold, darted behind Iarwain. Two big blue eyes peeked out from over Iarwain's head as the funny man hung his blue coat by the door.  
  
For what conduct did I merit that? cried Elrond, rubbing his arm. Either Iarwain had a daughter who was part goose or the Valar had decided to plague him with midges. Since one Iarwain was bad enough, Elrond was hoping for the midge theory.  
  
The blue eyes darted back behind Iarwain, and Elrond looked sternly at the funny man, expecting him to reprimand his child. Instead, Iarwain was chuckling under his beard, and patting the Pincher on her head. Look fair Goldberry, River-woman's daughter! Shouldn't go a-pinching now every other stranger! Don't a-get him riled now, lest you make him hotter! Lovely Lady Goldberry, River-woman's daughter!  
  
_So Iarwain married a River-woman' and this is their daughter?_ wondered Elrond, watching the Blonde Pincher in case she came back. She'd be in for a big surprise if she decided to try anything else...   
  
_You are getting so silly! This would _never_ have irritated you at home! What has gotten into you, Elrond! Contain your anger!_ thought the Elf-lord.  
  
Elrond, may I present Goldberry, my wife? asked Iarwain, using his non-singing voice. The Blonde Pincher stepped out from behind him and curtsied.  
  
His wife? Elrond was of a firm mind set that questioning the customs of others would only result in trouble and arguments, so he held back the thoughts which were springing willy-nilly into his mind. _She cannot be half as old as he claims to be, this Goldberry,_ thought Elrond. _She appears to be only a child, and certainly acts like one..._  
  
Goldberry giggled again, and smiled brightly. She was clothed in a gown of pale green, and her white skin seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. Come in, Master Elf! Iarwain shall show you the washing-place, then we shall begin our meal.  
  
Elrond followed Iarwain into a side chamber, and was lead into a sort of guest room complex. There were four beds, each too short for him (the Half-Elf thanked Eru for the fact that he could meditate standing) and Iarwain pointed out the washing basins before leaving him to clean up. Elrond splashed cold water on his face, and removed the dirt from underneath his fingernails. He had always hated that, the dirt under his nails. Though other Elves could tolerate it, Elrond found it extremely annoying.  
  
Elrond shuffled back into the main room, around the table, and carefully avoided the hanging light fixtures. The chair that Goldberry proffered him was somewhat larger than the others, and Elrond welcomed the size. Stretching his legs out beneath the table, Elrond felt the small knot of tension that had been building behind his forehead lessen. If these two didn't sing all the time this night would probably pass quite pleasantly.  
  
There was a hard pinch on his shoulder. Elrond yelped, and darted a slender hand out to capture Goldberry's wrist. He merely brushed her fingertips. How could they be so fast? Please refrain from doing that, growled Elrond, fixing Goldberry with his best Elrond-glare (something of which the Half-Elf was immensely proud. Gil-galad had once said he could have bored a hole through Glaurung with that stare -which was of course no easy feat).  
  
Goldberry giggled again, and placed the basket of bread that she was carrying on the table before him. The headache was returning. Were these two out to drive away his sanity? _I knew I should have left. I could out run Iarwain, couldn't I?_  
  
There was something about the way that the funny little man picked up a slice of bread, buttered it, and had if half-way into his mouth in less than a second that proclaimed Fat chance, Elrond.  
  
Elrond closed his eyes, wondering if he could lapse into a trance during the meal. _That was rude, Elrond,_ he told himself. _Manners!_ With a great internal sigh the Elf-lord attempted to relax himself with every mean possible. He was just on the verge of completing I am by a river, the grass is green. My troubles slip away... when an overly cheerful voice butted in on his thought process.  
  
The food is set, at expense the least. Tonight we enjoy a delicious feast! Come enjoy, merry dong dello! Tis spread for you, Peredhello! caroled Iarwain, gesturing to the food Goldberry had placed all over the table.   
  
Elrond opened his eyes and tried his best not to look cross. It wasn't hard, at least once he saw what had been laid out for him.   
  
Baskets piled high with bread and honeycomb were surrounded by earthenware tureens of vegetables and soup. Smoked salmon was laid out on a board at the table's center, next to vessels full of cream and butter. A bowl had been placed next to each of their seats, filled with clear, cool water. Two small wheels of white cheese had been set at either end, along with pots of raspberries and blueberries. Small jars of thyme and pepper had been set between the other dishes to season the food. Goldberry was sitting across from him, with Iarwain at the head of the table to his right. They were both smiling contentedly, and looking to him to begin the meal.  
  
Elrond was mesmerized. He had never expected such great fare from these two. Their cottage looked well-kept, but he had never thought that Iarwain and Goldberry would prepare him a feast. Perhaps he had been so used to Elvish cuisine to realize that other non-Elves could prepare food well, but in any case the sight of the bread and cream and salmon all together looked... excellent.   
  
Iarwain noted the surprised look on his guest's face, and said nothing, though the corners of his mouth did crinkle even more into a smile. Come, Master Peredhello! Let us feast! No troubles should worry you in this place! Do not hesitate, new friend, protected we shall be! In Master Aldandillo's house no harm shall befall thee!  
  
***  
  
Elrond finished his third plate of salmon and was content for the first time in the presence of Iarwain Ben-adar and his pinching wife. Iarwain and Goldberry cleared the table quickly and disappeared into the kitchen with two teetering towers of dishes apiece.  
  
_I admit, I was hasty to judge them. If only their manners were as good as Goldberry's cooking, I should have no qualms staying,_ thought the Half-Elf, fiddling absently with one of his braids. _Goldberry... That is a strange name, considering Iarwain's is of Elvish origin. Goldberry... what would that translate to in Quenya? Yavemalda, perhaps? Iafloriel in Sindarin..._ thought the Elf-lord, letting his mind wander. _Though I must say I have always liked silver, when it comes to personal preference. Celeb-_  
  
Come merry Elf-man! Let's have a song! The day is winding down and it will not be long! Night is coming closer, the shadows they are clinging, let us drive away the dark with our merry singing! burst Iarwain's cheery voice suddenly from the kitchen. Elrond nearly fell out of his chair.  
  
_Food is slowing my wits. I must not let that happen. What good would I be then to Celebrimbor?_ thought Elrond, mentally reprimanding himself.  
  
Goldberry danced into the room followed by Iarwain, her nimble feet seeming to barely touch the floor. A song! A song! she cried, clapping her hands delightedly. Iarwain shall sing for his Goldberry!  
  
Iarwain Ben-adar smiled, and Elrond knew that there would be more melody. It was not that Elrond did not enjoy singing, it was that he preferred it to be the song of Elves, who had considerably greater intonation that did not hurt his ears so. The Half-Elf shook his head slightly. He should not be so single-minded about the abilities of other races.  
  
But that could not be correct! Iarwain couldn't possibly be the sole member of his own race, could he? Some type of long-lived Dwarvish Man, perhaps? That was a good question. What in Arda _was_ his host? He could ask that question. It was not inappropriate.  
  
Thinking that now was better than later, Elrond decided to ask. Iarwain, I thank you again for all of this kind hospitality, but I must ask. Of what race do you belong to?  
  
Iarwain's eyes twinkled. He grinned. His red beard twitched. His lips parted. He drew a deep breath.  
  
Elrond had a strange urge to stop his ears.  
  
Iarwain Ben-adar's a merry fellow!   
He knows paths through the forests and water mellow!   
Do not wonder about Iarwain, he is here the Master.   
His songs they are of power great, and his feet be faster!   
Know this, young Master Elven-Man,   
Iarwain wanders his lovely land,   
His boots have traveled far and back,   
In this Forest Old they've made a track.   
For here he's dwelt and forever goes,   
And from whence he comes, none do know!  
  
Goldberry clapped, rocking back and forth in her seat, the embodiment of childish delight. Elrond, somewhat reluctantly, put his hands together twice to produce a soft Hrack, hrack. The Manners, No Rudeness mantra was running desperately through his head. Ask a question, get a rhapsody. He hadn't even answered his question, for the love of the Valar!  
  
Iarwain sprang to his feet and bowed, crossing one leg over the other. He was grinning from ear to ear, and blew a kiss to Goldberry. She smiled.   
  
Fair Goldberry, lovely River-daughter, sing us now a melody, pretty as it ought'er, to come from gentle lady fair, Goldberry from the water, sang Iarwain, taking his seat.  
  
Goldberry stood and composed her features. She began to sing. At once Elrond's impression of her as the Blonde Pincher changed. She seemed older and fairer, as if he had stumbled upon an ancient flower of the gardens in Aman. Suddenly she looked as if she had been in the world as long as Iarwain, her beauty preserved in that of a young maiden. Elrond saw, and was amazed at what changed had been brought upon her, and wondered again what unseen power his hosts had.   
  
She sang of rolling brooks, and streams as she remembered them in springtime. She sang of the return of the songbirds, and of dancing among the waterlilies in the river. She sang of dew on the blossoms of trees, and of Fimbrethil and the Entwives. Her song was pure and rich, and filled Elrond with wonder. he murmured, feeling the beauty in Goldberry's words and cherishing it, as is the manner of the Elves in regard to things which are fair.  
  
...petals which land, to the water they fall.  
The smallest of ripples become their last call.  
Green leaves which enter into this world,  
Dappled with dew they gently unfold.  
In spring I wandered into this fair glade,  
Not touched by those living since Arda was made.   
  
Goldberry finished, resuming her chair next to Iarwain, who clasped her hand in his. Elrond sat as one stunned. Perhaps there was more here than he had seen before, something deeper, purer, and wiser. He looked at Iarwain and Goldberry. They were so happy, so... untouched. Was this how the Elves were meant to live? Carefree and joyful? It was how they had been, before the shadows of Morgoth and Sauron.   
  
murmured Elrond once again. Forgive me, I have been rude. I should have been more patient had I known what majesty is here...  
  
Goldberry curtsied and smiled at him. No need for apologies, Master Elrond.   
  
I must insist, how may I make up for my lack of manners? Iarwain has surely noticed my... less than pleasant demeanor, offered Elrond. He was ashamed. What had possessed him to be so rude? Iarwain was immensely irritating, of course, but that was no excuse-  
  
Merry ding dillo, Master Elf, you do injustice to yourself. If repayment to Goldberry is what thou doth seek, come fol me hearty, by bubbling creek. Tomorrow Iarwain fishing will go, so Elrond may join Master Aldandillo! sang Iarwain, looking absolutely benign.  
  
What was that? asked Elrond, having been concentrating on his missing patience. His restrained tendencies had been absent for quite some time now, ever since he had stumbled upon Iarwain . Elrond tried not to let the funny man get to him, he really did. He had been rude, and would make up for it. Just as soon as he found out what Iarwain had said.  
  
Goldberry laughed again. Iarwain is going fishing on the morrow, and asks that you join him.  
  
Elrond got to his feet, avoiding the ornate lanterns once again. He bowed and replied, I shall gladly go, Fair Goldberry. Though I have never been fishing before.  
  
Never been fishing? We shall have to remedy that, Master Peredhello! cried Iarwain. Tomorrow down the Withywindle we shall go, and catch a salmon for my pretty lady.  
  
_I hope that I may keep what patience I have left through tomorrow. A whole day, with him? Manners, no rudeness, manners, no rudeness... _thought the Half-Elf. _I wonder what fishing' involves..._ He bowed once again to Goldberry.  
  
She pinched him, very hard, just below the knee.  
  
Elrond yelped. He took a step backward to sit down, and inadvertently backed into one of the lanterns, bruising a good part of his skull. Biting back Dwarvish curses, Elrond turned sideways, and found his chair, still keeping one eye on Goldberry. _So the Blonde Pincher is still in there, along with Yavemalda,_ he thought ruefully, rubbing the back of his head where the lantern had wounded him.  
  
Will you sing for us, Master Elrond? asked Goldberry, looking at him imploringly.   
  
Elrond felt the knot of tension returning. Why did they insist on angering him so, then acting as if nothing had happened? What would you have me sing? he asked.  
  
Goldberry's wide blue eyes looked indeed as if nothing but smiles had passed between them. Tell us of your home, and your people. Few tales we have of the Eldar in these past years.  
  
Elrond searched his memory for a song, and found one which had long been a favorite. His rich tenor voice rose into the melody, with words of the sea and the crashing waves. He sang of the Falas, the gulls' wailing cry, and the sadness of the Elves which chose to depart so soon from Middle-earth. He closed his gray eyes, imagining the deep blue water, and the starlight that danced upon the sea during moonless nights.   
  
He finished his song, and looked at his hosts. Iarwain had closed his eyes, no doubt remembering things that were his alone to remember. Goldberry was gazing out the window with a wistful sort of expression.  
  
asked Elrond quietly.  
  
Hmm? Peredhello sings nicely, Iarwain doth say. But night is fleeting, soon twill be day. Let us now sleep, return to our rest, Iarwain knows the places that fish do love best, he sang softly. Good night, Master Elrond.  
  
_Peredhello sings nicely? I have never received that response before. Though I should be grateful; I shall not have to see him until tomorrow,_ thought Elrond Peredhel, getting to his feet.  
  
Goldberry disappeared into one of the other rooms of the cottage, singing Good night, good night!. Elrond avoided the lanterns, once again feeling the ache in the back of his head where he had bruised himself. He would try to work some of his healing skills on the bump later, but now he needed rest. Yes, relaxing his mind would surely help him feel better.   
  
Sleep well, replied the Half-Elf. He braced himself against one of the walls, and hoped that he would not be too stiff after standing hunched all night. At last, Elrond breathed deeply, letting his eyes glaze over in blissful meditation.  
  
*********  
  
Author's Notes: Yavemalda and Iafloriel mean in Quenya and Sindarin, respectfully. Please note that at this time Iarwain and Goldberry would have only been together for a short time, and Goldberry is therefore a bit unruly.  
  
In the next chapter: Elrond and Iarwain go fishing. Do you think that it can't get any worse? Very wrong, you are. Experience the tension as Elrond learns how to bait a hook, cast a line, and reel in a fish. Read, review, enjoy!


	3. Elrond Goes Boating

The water was chill and sloshed unpleasantly into Elrond's shoes as he followed Iarwain through the more shallow waters of the Withywindle. Great patches of wetness crept up his legs, and Elrond winced as mud squelched underneath his shoes.   
  
About six paces ahead of him Iarwain was splashing merrily in the stream, his big yellow boots creating sprays of water which stirred up the mud at the bottom of the brook. To Elrond's left the creek had its main course, but as the summer had not been exceptionally warm, the water had spilled over the bank to soak the round pebbles will about six inches of water. It was this area that Iarwain was leading him through, and Elrond felt once again the perturbed discomfort that Iarwain caused so often.  
  
_I wonder what involves?_ pondered Elrond. _Cirdan's people catch fish in the sea often, but they use nets and ships, not poles and... whatever is in that bucket of Iarwain's..._  
  
The bucket in question swung back and forth from Iarwain's left hand, and Elrond could hear a gentle coming from it with every step. Two poles with string attached to them leaned against Aldandil's right shoulder.   
  
Elrond's Elvish curiosity was piqued. The two odd companions sloshed on, Elrond easily ignoring the wetness creeping up his shins. Iarwain hummed merrily, waving at a group of otters and a kingfisher as they passed the creatures by.  
  
Where are we going? asked Elrond. There are fish here, I can see them. Is this location not right to catch them in?  
  
Iarwain chuckled, his blue eyes glinting underneath his straw hat. Little does Peredhello know about fishing, it does seem!  
  
Elrond blinked. Nothing, to be specific.  
  
Ten minutes later they rounded a patch of cattails. Suddenly Iarwain burst into song: Here we are, Peredhello! The waters are fast but the fish are slow! Come hop aboard, help me row, down the river we shall go!   
  
Valar help me, murmured Elrond softly when he saw what Iarwain was standing next to.   
  
It was a rowboat, small and antiquarian but sturdy. Polished oak wood had been fashioned into a prow, and a fresh coat of pine pitch proclaimed the little vessel waterproof. Elrond stopped and stared at the little ship. I cannot get into that.  
  
Iarwain laughed as he untied the boat's tether. Afraid of the water, Master Peredhello?  
  
_No, loosing the blood that flows to my legs and having them fall off after sitting in that thing,_ retorted Elrond to himself. It is... rather small, he finished, biting back his inner comment.  
  
Iarwain looked back at Elrond with smiling eyes as he pushed the vessel into the stream. I see no trouble, unless Goldberry's cooking has added extra weight to us both. The little man took a running leap and landed deftly at the prow. Pass me the bucket and rods, Master Elrond.  
  
Elrond complied, then looked apprehensively at the little craft as Iarwain located the oars lying in the boat's bottom. He tugged at the elbows of his shirt, wondering if there was any possible way of going back on his promise without being overly rude. Iarwain looked up at him, his smiling eyes tinged with impatience that said clearly Remember Yavemalda.  
  
A great sigh ran through Elrond's frame. _Here I go,_ he thought. Elrond took two steps backward, then took a running start and leaped gracefully into the boat. The boat rocked madly, and Iarwain reached out and grasped Elrond's hand to push him into a sitting position. The vessel rocked like a cradle before settling into the water much lower than before. Elrond was light, but not that light.  
  
Hey now Elven-man! What be you a-doing? Rocking poor Iarwain's boat until it's overflowing? chided Iarwain as he handed the oars to Elrond.  
  
The Half-Elf blushed and shook a couple loose strands of black hair out of his eyes. I shall not do that again. He looked at the oars in his hands. They were very different from those belonging to Galadriel's swan-boats. Which way are we going?  
  
West, Master Peredhello! To the deep glade where the salmon live! said Iarwain, closing his eyes contentedly.  
  
Elrond sighed and grasped the oars in his hands, wincing as his quiver and bow came into contact with the prow behind him. One stroke, and the little craft shot three yards forward, two strokes and it was six yards forward. _This is rather fun..._ thought Elrond as he worked the oars faster. Three strokes and the boat was moving along like a firefly in June. The little boat sped through the water, cutting a wide cleft in the Withywindle as Elrond strove for greater velocities.  
  
Iarwain's eyes suddenly shot open as the vessel hit a bump in the stream. Elrond! Slow going here! There is a water-  
  
Two late. Iarwain's boat flew over the waterfall, water droplets glistening in the air as it careened over the cataract and into a rocky pool. Elrond, his back to the destination, had not seen the jump coming. cried he as the boat started to drop from its flight. Iarwain grabbed hold of his hat and laughed.  
  
The ship landed with a great splash. Elrond sat back, gasping for breath. _Something to remember: always look where you are going when in a barrel-boat,_ thought the Elf-lord.   
  
Iarwain was grinning madly from ear to ear, an accumulation of water droplets having collected in the brim of his hat. Had I know how fast you were going I should have told you of that fall, said Iarwain in a manner that suggested he would have done no such thing.  
  
The color had gone from much of Elrond's face. That... was not pleasant...  
  
Iarwain laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. Master Peredhel shall learn the way of boating in time! Now steer us to the south, to the small slipstream. There live many fish to be caught for my lady fair!  
  
Elrond gulped. He felt like an Elfling, young and inexperienced. _My father was Eärendil the _Mariner_! And I cannot maneuver a small craft such as this? I shall be having a long talk with Cirdan once I return to the Falas, that is certain. If anyone can teach the art of boating, it is him._ The Half-Elf gripped the paddles once again and rowed the vessel in the direction that Iarwain had indicated. He did it slowly.  
  
To the right, Master Elrond. We shall tether the craft there and proceed to fish! said Iarwain happily as Elrond sidled the boat up to the bank. Once there Iarwain tied the boat's line to a protruding tree root and handed one of his sticks to Elrond. The funny little man then proceeded to open his bucket, leaving Elrond confused.  
  
What am I to do with this? asked the Elf-lord.   
  
Iarwain Ben-adar's a happy fellow, he knows the secret fishing spots by the flowers yellow, Ahoy, jolly Elf-man, I cast my line, watch me and you shall learn the steps in time! sang Iarwain, locating the dangling fish hook.   
  
A shadow passed over Elrond's brow. He did not like being called jolly Elf-man. With a sigh of resignation the Half-Elf turned his full gaze on what Iarwain was doing.  
  
The red-bearded man stuck his hand into the bucket and pulled out something small, flesh-colored, and wriggling. He looked at the worm closely, squeezing its middle to test its plumpness, then held the little creature high...  
  
And plunged it down onto the barbed fish hook.   
  
You killed it! exclaimed a startled Elrond. The worm's body fluids started to seep out where Iarwain had punctured the thing. Elrond looked at it sadly. Poor creature. It was not doing anything wrong...  
  
Elrond jumped. The worm was _wriggling_! It was still... alive?  
  
Iarwain noted Elrond's startled face and began to laugh in great peals of hilarity. Of all the creatures that live in Arda, some of them are more resilient than they would have you believe.  
  
Elrond bit the inside of his lip, trying not to pout. The Elves of Lindon sometimes used earthworms in their gardens, but they had never skewered them. How was he to know that the worms were, as Iarwain would probably say, full of life and surprise-o!?  
  
_Oh Valar save me. I am starting to _think_ like him!_  
  
Now, Peredhel. You shall drop the hook into the water, and wait for a bite! said Iarwain jovially.  
  
A bite of what? asked Elrond blankly.  
  
A fish to bite, replied Iarwain.  
  
The fish bite _me_?  
  
No, your hook, silly Elf-man! exclaimed Iarwain happily.  
  
Elrond made a sound octaves below his breath which sounded like . The Half-Elf paused. _Manners, no rudeness, manners, no rudeness..._ he thought fervently. Elrond did not want to be stuck doing this again tomorrow. Clearing his face of its scowl, he looked up at Iarwain with resignation. How do I begin?  
  
Iarwain was hunched over his seat, holding his fishing pole tightly. Find the hook.  
  
Elrond went through the three yards of line before coming to a small metal barb. What now?  
  
Stick a worm to it.  
  
Elrond raised his eyes to the heavens. _Why me?_ He reaching into the bucket and pulled out a wiggling pink worm. The little thing, had it had eyes or the ability to speak, would be saying I don't want to be here any more than you, Elf. Elrond swallowed and looked from the hook to the worm. _Why me? Orcs deserve no mercy, they are evil creatures. But this thing... Oh well._ He looked at the worm unhappily. _I shall try to make this painless._  
  
He drove the hook through the wriggling worm sharply. Then I drop it into the water? asked Elrond, averting his gaze from the creature.  
  
  
  
Elrond moved to drop his baited hook next to where Iarwain's was. Iarwain stayed his hand. My second thought says that too close they twould seem, to hang next to each other in the dark cool stream! Here's a grand idea, come ring a ding dide! Let us turn round to fish on opposite sides!   
  
How do you mean? asked an irritable Elrond.  
  
Sit back to back with me, proclaimed Iarwain cheerfully.  
  
There was a great deal of scooting, shuffling, and all-around discomfort as the two moved to sit back to back. As there was then no room for them, Elrond had placed his bow and quiver on the bank next to the boat's tether. The worst bit, however, had been when Elrond had nearly sat in the worm bucket, but then Iarwain had moved it so that they were both comfortable.   
  
Or at least Iarwain was comfortable.  
  
Elrond, on the other hand, was squashed into the prow of the little boat, his knees tucked under his chin tightly. Iarwain's red hair tickled the back of Elrond's neck causing a sensation similar to playing host to a flock of midges. But the most annoying by far was Iarwain's feather. It was positioned in such a way that its tip was actually inside Elrond's ear. This became incredibly hard to ignore as soon as they had stopped moving.  
  
asked Elrond after dropping his hook into the water.  
  
Yes, merry Elf-man? answered he.  
  
_Do not call me that! _ Could you possibly move your feather? asked Elrond.  
  
Iarwain reached up and turned the brim of his hat so that the feather was all the way around. It poked Elrond in his other ear this time. The Elf-lord clenched his teeth.  
  
began Elrond, but all of a sudden he was cut off. Something was pulling on his fishing pole!  
  
Iarwain! There is something at the other end of the string! cried Elrond, trying to peer into the water to see what it was.  
  
You have a bite, Peredhello! said Iarwain happily. Pull it in!  
  
Elrond heaved back the pole, nearly capsizing the boat. It is not coming, he said through clenched teeth.  
  
Pull on the string, merry Elf-man! said Iarwain, getting more excited by the second.  
  
Elrond reached out and caught the rope dangling from his rod and tugged it hard. Iarwain turned in his seat and grabbed the pole as Elrond yanked harder and harder on the line. It must be a big fish, Peredhello!  
  
Elrond grit his teeth, finally overwhelmed with frustration. Do -not -call -me -'Peredhello'! Or -jolly-  
  
At that moment several things happened at once. Iarwain felt a tug on his line, Elrond slid forward on one knee to better grapple with his fish, and Iarwain loosened his grip on Elrond's pole. Also, the stubborn fish, finally weary of its struggle, leapt from the water and flew backwards into Elrond's arms.   
  
It was the ugliest fish Elrond had ever seen. But that was not the foremost thought in the Elf-lord's mind. It was _Why am I going backwards?_  
  
For that was what Elrond was doing. The momentum of the fish finally coming into the boat coupled with the release of tension on the string had resulted in Elrond, son of Eärendil, to be pitched backward, out the side of the boat, into the water, with the fish still clasped tightly to his chest.  
  
The fish began to squirm as Elrond furiously tread water. Iarwain was hit by the splash as Elrond fell, and thinking wisely took hold of the Elf-lord's discarded line to save the fish from escaping. Elrond felt the tug as Iarwain began to pull on the fish, but he instead thought that the creature was escaping, so he grabbed hold even tighter. It was the first fish he had ever caught; Elrond was not about to let it escape.  
  
Iarwain, not surprisingly, was a great deal stronger than he looked. He yanked the line forcefully and brought the fish -with Elrond- right to the side of the boat. The monstrous creature flailed and whacked Elrond with its tail. Iarwain tugged again, this time slamming the fish -and Elrond- into the side of the boat.  
  
Elrond's vision blurred as his head was knocked repeatedly into the side of the small craft. All of a sudden he heard Iarwain's voice clearly: Let go of the fish, Peredhello!. Elrond did not know what else to do. He let go.   
  
Two minutes later Elrond was safely treading water, his hair unclasped and plastered to his face over a couple large bruises where the boat had smacked him. Iarwain had subdued the fish, which was in fact over three feet long. It was one of Those Fish, the legendary ones that live in deep lakes and are supposedly impossible to catch. Men gave them names such as Old One-Eye and King Salmon. If fish had a hierarchy, this one would hold a position equal with Gil-galad.  
  
Funny, really, mused Elrond in his post-dunking stupor. An odd image of Gil-galad sitting on a throne next to the fish he had just caught had popped into his head. That was unusual.  
  
Come, Master Elrond. Let us get you out of the deep water, said Iarwain cheerfully, finally turning his attention to the sopping wet Elf. Swim to the shore, I will help you out.  
  
Elrond slowly swam over to the side of the pool as Iarwain climbed out of the boat which was still tethered to the willow root. The funny little man reached down his hand and grasped Elrond by the sleeve, throwing him up onto the bank.  
  
Elrond remained motionless for two minutes, coughing up water and letting his breathing return to normal. _Ai, Elbereth..._  
  
Iarwain was speaking again. ...quite an adventure for your first fish, Master Peredhello! Fair Goldberry, River-woman's daughter, shall cook a feast tonight!  
  
I am wet, said Elrond rather dazedly as he began to take off his shoes. Do you have an extra cloak my size?  
  
No need for cloaks, my friend! Run naked in the forest! The time is past for fishing, home we go again! Cast aside your dripping shirt, run merrily and free! Goldberry shall be full of delight, to have what you've caught for she! sang Iarwain, dancing and jumping around on the bank.  
  
Run naked? coughed Elrond incredulously. I do not think so, Aldandil!!  
  
*********  
  
Author's notes: Sorry, no nudey!Elrond today, folks. Anyway, I have been looking forward to writing this scene ever since the plotbunny bit me, so I hope you have enjoyed it. ^_^  
  
In the next chapter: Elrond and Iarwain return home to Goldberry with The Fish. More fun as Elrond waits for his clothes to dry! Wonder in amazement as Elrond is delayed from his mission even longer! Read, review, enjoy! 


	4. Musings of a Wet Elf

Elrond Peredhel sat on the little bed in Iarwain's guest room, dressed in his spare traveling clothes. One leg rested on his knee, and his foot seemed to be quivering with pent-up energy. He had to reach Eregion! He didn't have time for Goldberry to fool around with his clothes under the pretext of washing them! Celebrimbor needed his help _now_.  
  
Pushing his still-damp hair back out of his eyes, Elrond sighed. Iarwain had paddled them back upstream in the barrel boat, which had gone much more slowly than on the way down, what with the extra weight of the fish and all of the water that had soaked into Elrond's clothing. Also the fact that they were traveling upstream, and that Iarwain seemed to think that rushing was something best suited to rivers, not people.  
  
Elrond cast his gaze out the window and watched Goldberry hanging his shirt on the line. Iarwain Aldandil was dancing to an imaginary hornpipe melody. Goldberry laughed at her husband's antics, and dropped Elrond's tunic, so that when she picked it up it was full of mud. Laughing merrily, the River-woman's daughter took the garment back to her laundry tub and began to scrub once again.  
  
The Elf-lord ground his teeth angrily. It was nearly twilight, and he had been _hoping_ to leave before sunset. Nearly two days in Iarwain and Goldberry's company was enough to make him homesick for Lindon. And yet at the rate which these two were going... He might not make it to Eregion before the battle was over!  
  
_Can you not go any faster?_ wondered Elrond irritably, curling his fingers into balls. Yavemalda was forgotten, and Elrond was finding it increasingly hard to contain his temper. _I ought to simply go out, snatch my clothes, then leave before they can catch up, _thought Elrond.  
  
Goldberry finished her second washing and hung Elrond's tunic on the line. Iarwain then took her hands in his and they began to dance around the garden, laughing in pure convivial joy. Dusk settled on the cottage, bringing fireflies out to wander in the warm spring air. Iarwain began to sing in his cheerful rustic style.  
  
Lovely Goldberry, fair daughter of the river,  
Come and sing with me, set my heart a-quiver!  
Laughing in the moonlight, dancing neath the stars,  
Fair Goldberry, what joy lies here is ours!  
Watch the glowing fire, the night-flowers that bloom,  
Here and there we wander, here no shadows loom!  
Come fol me rally, oh! feather dee!  
How can I tell thee what joy you bring me?  
  
Elrond stood up and walked to the other end of the room where he couldn't hear Iarwain and his wife so loudly. How could they be so happy? It wasn't... right. There was so much trouble in his world, the troubles with the orcs in Khazad-dûm, Annatar roaming around and destroying the Elven loyalties, the evil Men in the south who would not listen to wisdom, the list went on until it was all that Elrond could do to not cry out in anguish. The world was so full of problems... How could these two ignore all of this sorrow? It was wrong, very wrong.  
  
Faint laughter reached Elrond's ears. He glanced back over his shoulder and watched the two beings frolic in the twilight. Why could they be happy... and he so troubled?  
  
The sound of running feet startled Elrond out of his contemplation. Iarwain had run up to his window, and was gesturing for him to come out. Look, merry Elf-man! Happily be! Fair Goldberry is preparing a meal for thee! The fish that twas caught in the old fishing hole, has been cooked to become a great meal for us all!  
  
Elrond frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Iarwain cut him off.  
  
Come, Elrond. Join us, he said, an odd look in his blue eyes. The peculiar little man then danced away. Goldberry was spreading a blanket on the grass for an outdoor feast when Iarwain caught up to her and the two laughed once again, lost in their secluded and happy lifestyle.  
  
_Join us... _   
  
The phrase rolled around in Elrond's head. He remembered a thought which he had had before.   
  
_Join us... _  
  
This might have been the way that Elves were supposed to be, in the past before the risings of the sun and moon. What had Iluvatar hoped for his Children? Was this it? Was this the answer?   
  
_Join us... !_  
  
Could it be? That this _was_ what had been intended for the Elves... To be happy in Arda? It seemed... feasible to the Elf-lord, and he wondered if perhaps he had been pushing this feeling aside. Had he delved so deep into his responsibilities that he had forgotten to enjoy the world?   
  
Elrond frowned as scenes flashed unbidden before his eyes. Growing up at the Mouths of Sirion, being captured by Maglor, saying farewell to Elros for the last time... All of his grief wearied Elrond in more ways than one. And then there were those moments when all of Arda seemed to press on his shoulders... Did it have to be that way?  
  
Iarwain Ben-adar had shown him a peaceful life, a way of living so completely different from his own. Iarwain was not troubled by war, death, or the terrible worry that seemed to hang over Elrond's head like a blade ready to fall. It was almost as if they did not live in the same world...  
  
The nagging thought resurfaced once again. Perhaps Iarwain knew the truth, perhaps it was _right_ to be happy... Even though darkness lingered outside, perhaps it was right to have a safe haven away from fear and doubt. Maybe it was... -No, it _was_ right! Yes, right! Elrond felt as if his eyes had been transformed from those of a Man to those of an Elf. He _could_ allow himself enjoy his time in this world, he _could_ laugh and be happy, it was not wrong!   
  
It was right...  
  
A feeling of relief spread over Elrond, and he felt his heart rise in his chest. Enjoyment of the world, happiness in one's gifts and in the bliss of others, being with those beloved... that was what had been called for in the Vision of Iluvatar. Eru had wanted happiness for his Children!  
  
A laugh escaped his lips. It startled Elrond for a moment before he realized what was so humorous. _I believe I have just discovered the meaning of my existence... in the house of Iarwain Aldandil!_ More laughter overcame the Elf-lord, and he was at ease with the burden of his responsibilities. His duties seemed lighter, knowing that there would be joy in his life if he took the time to find it. And for the moment, that joy would be enough for Elrond Peredhel.  
  
He ran outside into the darkness, and Goldberry laughed in amazement as she saw him glow in the night. Iarwain smiled when he saw his guest so contented, saying, So you have decided to join us, Master Peredhello!  
  
Elrond smiled pensively, finally comprehending what Iarwain had known all along. That I have, Master Aldandil.  
  
Goldberry jumped to her feet, laughing in the moonlight. Tilion was at his brightest, giving the three ample illumination to see by. The fish is nearly cooked, Master Elf! Come dance!  
  
Elrond hesitated, his old sense of responsibility returning to irk him. He had wanted to leave tonight...  
  
Yet suddenly that seemed immaterial. He was expected at Eregion within the fortnight, and it would not be polite to his hosts to decline their hospitality when he still had time to spare. Elrond decided that he would leave on the morrow, and in the meantime... he would dance.   
  
Taking Goldberry's hands, the Elf and River-woman's daughter leaped about the clearing as Iarwain sang a rollicking melody about an otter. Warm starlight shone down, mingling with Tilion's glow. Goldberry twirled about, her feet seeming to barely touch the ground. Elrond smiled and remembered his grandmother, Idril. She had danced in a similar fashion.  
  
Then Iarwain began a new song and Goldberry let Elrond take the lead. He smiled, wondering what he must look like. Luthien may have been a dancer, but Elrond doubted that that characteristic had passed to him. Still, it felt good to stretch his legs after the ride in the barrel boat. And, to be honest, it _was_ enjoyable.  
  
Iarwain finished his tune and took Goldberry's hands. Come, Master Elf, a melody for us! Sing a happy music to dance to through the dusk!  
  
Elrond nodded, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes. It had dried surprisingly fast, what with him moving around so quickly. It was strange, now that he thought about it. There were very few songs that would fit his emotions at that moment. At last his mind came across a melody which he had heard long ago, when he had been but an Elfling. It was not particularly beautiful, yet that did not really matter at the moment. In many ways, it reminded him of Iarwain and Goldberry.  
  
An Elf in the forest did merrily walk,  
His steps running happily up a tree's stalk,  
Aloof in the branches the Elf did sit,  
Waiting for his friend to pay a visit.  
  
An Elf-maiden ran under the trees,  
Looking for the world like Manwe's true breeze,  
She sped through the pathways, looking for he,  
Not knowing that her friend was high in a tree.  
  
A small little laugh did give him away,  
The Elf-maiden saw him and he bid her stay,  
Climbing down from his leafy flet,  
And seeing her there the Elf-maiden met.  
  
Happy to see him was the lady Elf,  
Smiling the lady did introduce herself,  
Laughing then the two did wander through the glade,  
Stopping to rest in a pool of shade.  
  
Merry Elf-lad and merry Elf-lass,  
Whilst they were together much time did pass,  
Wandering happily through the forest maze,  
They wander there still til the end of days.  
  
Goldberry clapped delightedly as Elrond finished the song. Struck by sudden inspiration the Elf-lord bowed. Thinking back on the song, it didn't quite make sense, but then again it was a children's verse, not a true Lay. And, like dancing, it was enjoyable.  
  
I like this song better than the one of the seagulls, said Goldberry, her face radiant with happiness. It is much prettier! She and Iarwain danced once more around the lawns, seeming to embody delight itself.  
  
Elrond bit back a smile. _I wouldn't say that, but... if she likes it..._  
  
Cooking time for fish is done, time to eat the scaly one! said Iarwain when he and Goldberry had finished their romp about the lawn.  
  
Elrond looked over at the little cookfire which Iarwain had set up outside. The fish Elrond had caught was giving off a delectable aroma, expertly cleaned and dressed by Iarwain himself. Goldberry rushed over to the main course and sprinkled some herbs onto the fish. Then Aldandil took one end of the spit as Goldberry grasped the other, and the two beings lifted the meal off of the fire. Elrond looked for a way to be useful, and ended up holding a large wooden trencher as Goldberry removed the spit from the meat.   
  
Once again Elrond had to be impressed by the fare cooked up by the rustic couple. Goldberry had managed to outdo herself with different sorts of cheese and bread, as well as a whole tray of lettuce and celery from her garden. Iarwain carefully brought out a bowl of springwater from inside his cottage and dropped a sprig of mint into the mazer.   
  
Setting the feast down on the blanket, Iarwain and Goldberry's picnic seemed to be utterly perfect. What Elrond would have normally called foolishness was not foolish at all; it was the way that these two lived. They were happy beings, and Elrond regretted that he had ever thought anything against them. It was hard to hate people who managed to be such a light in black ages.  
  
The meal was every bit as good as it looked. Elrond's Fish, as it was called by Goldberry, was the best that she had ever tasted. And that was a great compliment from the daughter of the River. Iarwain sang some more songs, and Goldberry gave a rendition of one of her husband's tunes, which made it seem sweeter, like pouring honey on a hardy country pudding. For an instance Elrond was mesmerized as Goldberry transformed once more into Yavemalda, the pure creature that had been revealed to him the previous evening.  
  
Once the three had finished eating, Elrond helped carry the dishes back to Iarwain's cottage. This amused Iarwain to no end, especially when Goldberry ordered Elrond to stand by as a dish-rack and pass her the bowls as she cleaned them. It seemed to Elrond as if these two delighted in every mundane task. And when they were happy they sang more and more, lapsing in and out of common dialogue with bits of various tunes.  
  
At last Goldberry finished the last plate, Iarwain drying them with a soft moss-like towel. Then the River-daughter chuckled and pinched Elrond's wrist. Elrond tapped her gently on the side of the head, and Goldberry responded by running lightly out the door. Iarwain laughed and took off after his wife, leaving Elrond to finish the dishes.  
  
_I wonder if this is what it is like to have children,_ mused Elrond as he watched Iarwain catch up to Goldberry and begin another dance. A bit of shame returned to Peredhel as he remembered his earlier discomfort. _If so, I doubt I would make a good father._  
  
At last Iarwain returned to the house to fetch the Elf-lord, and the three of them went out to sit down in the lawn once more. They turned their heads upward and watched the stars. Elrond smiled as the starlight fell over his face. Elbereth's creations were beautiful, pure and lovely in all senses of the words. Elrond scanned the dark sky before he found his favorite star. There it was.  
  
Eärendil was bright that night. Rays of light from the heavenly Silmaril soothed Elrond's mind, as if he was sinking into a warm bath back in Lindon. His father was up there, and it was always a comfort to Elrond to know that.   
  
Goldberry was smiling, admiring the beauty above her. Elrond did not know what significance starlight held for the Blonde Pincher, but he was almost certain that it was of some importance to Yavemalda. This was quite a relief to Elrond, as he fervently hoped that Yavemalda held a stronger influence over Goldberry than the Blonde Pincher.  
  
Iarwain also looked happy to see the stars, and his eyes seemed to glaze over in memory. If all that he had said was true, then the funny little man had witnessed the stars' creation. Elrond could not help being a bit envious. To have seen the sky at its blackest, then all aglow with the lights of Laurelin and Telpirion!  
  
Elrond began to sing a song of the Two Trees, softly at first, then stronger as his spirit rose with the melody. It was a wonderful night for singing. The last note seemed to hang in the darkness as Elrond finished, until finally it ceased to be.  
  
Iarwain was silent. Elrond watched him from the corner of his eye, and was surprised to see a look of sadness on his host's cheerful face. It only lasted an instant, before being replaced by a gentle smile. Iarwain knew the burden of immortality, it seemed. Yet he had conquered the despair with joy.   
  
More songs! More songs! cried Goldberry suddenly, disturbing the thoughtful silence.  
  
Iarwain laughed and leapt to his feet. Anything for my pretty lady! he replied jovially.  
  
The funny little man entertained his wife with more songs, which, though not suited to Elrond's tastes, still managed to bring a pleasant feeling to the Elf-lord. In later years Elrond would never be quite able to recall all of the songs sung by his host, yet there was one which remained with him throughout the next age.  
  
Ho, now! Iarwain, Master Aldandillo!  
Blue his jacket is and his boots are yellow!  
Underneath the starlight,  
Iarwain sings in twilight!  
Songs to please his pretty lady, River-daughter fair!  
  
In summer Iarwain walks through the glade,  
Looking for flowers for his pretty maid!  
Ho! tis getting late!  
Goldberry does wait!  
For flowers please my pretty lady, River-daughter fair!  
  
In autumn Iarwain dances o'er leaves,  
Gathering harvest from under the eaves,  
Look! the weather breaks!  
Winter the greening takes!  
Brings snowflakes for my pretty lady, River-daughter fair!  
  
In winter the snow does fall to the earth,  
Here to bring happiness and love-ely mirth!  
Trees look as bone!  
The forest seems alone!  
But not for Iarwain's pretty lady, River-daughter fair!  
  
In spring the warm sun brings new life back,  
Iarwain wanders through his winding track!  
Flowers burst in bloom!  
Joyous days do loom!  
Especially for Iarwain's pretty lady, River-daughter fair!  
  
*********  
  
Author's Notes: End chapter four, the Epiphany. I always tend to write those, and I honestly don't know where it comes from. Also, I would like to now state that any opinions formulated in this chapter are not meant to be preachy and/or religious. It is a question of outlook, as I see it.  
  
In the next and final chapter: Elrond bids farewell to Iarwain and Goldberry and sets out over the Barrow-downs. Parting gifts, and we learn where the name came from. Until then, read, review, enjoy!


	5. The Paths of Parting

His haversack was packed, his clothes were dry, and Elrond Peredhel was surprised to find himself sad that he was about to depart from Iarwain and Goldberry's company. Sitting at the table where his hosts took their meals, Elrond stirred his porridge idly with one long fair hand. Two days seemed too short, now that he thought about it. But he had his duties, and was bound to leave Iarwain's realm.   
  
A sharp pang struck Elrond's knee, and without missing a second the Half-Elf had caught Goldberry's wrist before she could dart away. Please refrain from doing that, he said pleasantly before resuming his reverie. Iarwain's wife shook her head childishly, then skipped off to the kitchen.  
  
There was a scraping of a chair against the floor, and the gentle thud of a tankard being set down on the table. I expect that you shall be wanting to leave today, Master Peredhello, said Iarwain, glancing at Elrond out of the corner of his eye as he took a drink.  
  
Elrond turned to look at his host with one fluid movement. Yes, I must be taking my leave. When last I left Glorfindel, his host was merely four days behind me. I must reach Celebrimbor soon to tell him that help is coming. If I linger any longer, Glorfindel is likely to overtake me, he added with a small smile. Glorfindel would love to throw that back in his face someday.  
  
Iarwain nodded and sipped some more of his drink. If that is your course, you will be traveling over the Downs. I will see you off past the end of the forest, but from there you must go east. Some Men have begun building a small village there; you may find shelter in their town if you wish it.  
  
What is it called? asked Elrond. Few Men now remained in Eriador, and those who did were most often under the sway of Sauron. Still, that did not mean that all were of malevolent nature. Perhaps there were Numenoreans still loyal to the Eldar among them.  
  
Bree', if I remember rightly, said Iarwain, chuckling.   
  
Elrond nodded, and both men seemed to wait as an awkward silence engulfed them. Elrond finished his porridge, and rose carefully, minding the candle brackets hanging from the ceiling. A thought struck him, and with a soft Elrond dug his hands into the bag around his waist.   
  
It had been given to him in Lothlorien, upon his last visit there. Golden lilies in a chain... he had forgotten about it. I think... I think that Goldberry might find this to her liking.  
  
Iarwain smiled softly. I am sure that she will, Peredhello. The funny little man got to his feet and took the belt of flag-lilies into the kitchen. As he left, Elrond heard him singing. I wandered in summer, by fair golden springs, looking for flowers to garland in rings, for fair Goldberry, my heart truly sings! And by the deep water I met her again, alas that the lilies should call her away, and I almost wandered lonely to the end of my days...  
  
The Elf-lord grabbed his pack and walked out the back door. The trees were thin here, and far to the east he caught sight of a great field of green rolling on into the distance. Elrond shouldered his bow, then glanced back into the house. The sun was nearly risen, and he was leaving.  
  
Somehow he had a hard time grasping that thought. After all that he had learned, felt, tried, tasted, experienced... Could he really leave? Elrond pondered this for a minute. No, he could not leave. He would never _leave_ this feeling of peace. It would stay with him forever, until all was said and done.  
  
Ho! Merry Elf-man, going are you? Down through the trees and through the field too? Away from Iarwain's house, leaving him and the lovely spouse? Away from the forest and the Withywindle blue, sang Iarwain, coming to stand beside him. Even now when he was standing still Iarwain seemed to be dancing. It was as if the man was quivering with the vibrancy of life. Or perhaps he had crickets in his pants -one could never tell with Iarwain.  
  
Yes, that I am, began Elrond, looking down at the red-bearded man. It would be ill fortune for the company to overtake the vanguard, Aldandil.  
  
Iarwain thought for a moment, sucking on a blade of grass. Yes, I suppose it would, he said plainly.   
  
Almost at once a song drifted out from the cottage. Elrond turned as Goldberry's voice reached his ears, singing a song of parting.  
  
Fare thee well, Peredhel, fare thee well!  
If we meet again only He can tell;  
Of our home you take your leave,  
Past will pass by and time will weave.  
  
Lilies have grown at Goldberry's feet,  
And until again we come to meet;  
As a girdle-cord they shall bind,  
Her dress until the end of Time.  
  
A bright blonde head appeared in the window, and Goldberry waved one white arm in his direction, smiling in the manner of Yavemalda. The Half-Elf bowed, then Goldberry disappeared back into the cottage. Iarwain laughed, and started out toward the forest.  
  
Come hop-along, merry Elf, time is swiftly calling! Through the trees and to the road Iarwain won't be stalling! The sun rises high to sky, night lingers no longer; come with Aldandillo now, his songs are ever stronger!  
  
And turning from the homely cottage, Elrond never again set eyes upon the home of Iarwain Aldandil and his wife, Goldberry. He leapt forward, walking with long strides to keep up with Iarwain's dancing feet. They passed Goldberry's vegetable garden and entered into the thin coppice of trees that formed a loose barrier between Iarwain's home and the Downs.  
  
Elrond squinted slightly as they left the stand of trees; the rising sun seemed overly bright since his eyes were so accustomed to the dark of the woods. Iarwain raised his blue-sleeved arm and pointed to a strip of brown that cleaved the grassy field in two halves.  
  
There is the road to Bree, Peredhello. Whither do you wander from there? asked Iarwain, managing to sound concerned, yet not the least bit curious about where Elrond was going.  
  
Southeast, Aldandil. I -and Glorfindel's host- shall be going to Eregion. Though I expect that Glorfindel will try to avoid your forest, responded Elrond, looking northward.   
  
Iarwain shrugged, and started to walk towards the road, Elrond following him. It really was quite remarkable how little the man cared for the world outside the Old Forest. Elrond suspected that Sauron himself could have surrounded the forest with all of his forces without Iarwain minding. Just as long as nothing actually went _into_ the forest, that is.  
  
They moved onward for a couple of hours before coming to a hill overlooking the road. Wind buffeted Elrond's hair, and Iarwain had to tuck his hat a little more snugly over his head. They must have looked a very awkward standing there, a tall Elf-lord arrayed for war and a short Mannish creature with red hair and brightly colored rainment. Elrond paused, looking into the east silently.  
  
Good-bye, Iarwain Aldandil.  
  
Iarwain said nothing. And then he turned slowly to the Elf-lord. Farewell, Elrond. I do not think we will meet again.  
  
An aura of peace swirled around the two, and a shade of mutual understanding descended onto Elrond and Iarwain. In the west a blond Elf marched the host of Lindon Elves to war. In the east the Gwaith-i-Mirdain fought to save their home from servants of the Dark Lord. Middle-earth brimmed with strife, death, and bloodshed.   
  
But for less than a second Elrond was removed from that struggle.   
  
And for less than a second he was at peace.   
  
Taking up his bow, Elrond nodded to Iarwain, and ran eastward. The sun shone brightly upon his path, drying the damp grass under his feet. He was leaving the haven that Iarwain had created, and would soon face another storm of war. Elrond was not unfamiliar with battle, to say the least, but this time it seemed different. For the first time, it seemed as if there was something to fight for, something that had to be preserved.   
  
The simple life... That was what had to be saved. For Iarwain, Goldberry, Fimbrethil and the Entwives, and the race of Men... More precious than jewels or mithril, the joy of life had to be kept. For them.  
  
It was for that that Elrond ran. He went into the East, not knowing what would be found there.  
  
And behind him, Iarwain watched from the crest of the green hill, the sun glinting off his blue jacket, the wind blowing grass stems around his yellow boots.  
  
***  
  
The bucket clanked repeatedly against the pony's leg, and Olo Stockburrow hurried to refasten it securely. Troublesome news had been coming out of the east, most troublesome. Bree had seemed like a good place to settle, much better indeed than the Vales of the Anduin, but that had been before the refugees, and much before the bands of goblins had taken to roaming the outskirts of town.  
  
Olo! Come up here, we're nearing the forest! called Goody.  
  
Eh? What's that? answered the old hobbit, cupping a hand around his ear. Much to Olo's dismay, his hearing was not quite as good as it had been in his younger days.   
  
You're not that deaf, Olo, shouted Goody exasperatedly. Come here, I want you to see the forest!  
  
Olo patted the pony's head and hastened to his wife, who was pointing the a smudge of green on the western horizon. He leaned forward, trying to extend his vision. There's the Old Forest, right indeed. The Brandywine bridge won't be far now, so don't you fret.  
  
Goody laughed and clapped her husband on the shoulder. Since when have I gone worrying myself silly with all of these troubles of moving house? The pot shouldn't advise the kettle if he can't whiten himself, you know.  
  
Olo shook his head resignedly, and looked around the moving party at the rest of his family. He had a lot of hope for this new land, the Shire. It would be a place for him to raise his family in peace, without the bother of goblins and wolves hassling the borders. Olo's two sons, Lanto and Nolo, ran ahead of the party, and the older hobbit smiled fondly.  
  
Now don't be straying too far, boys, he called ahead to them.  
  
We won't, Papa! cried Nolo, running over to a great hill that rose the the left of the road. The morning sunlight angled over the horizon, creating a great shadow over the road ahead.  
  
Olo shook his head fondly and looked back to check on the ponies. They were meandering along at a steady pace, and with any luck they would reach the Brandywine before sunset. Olo dropped back to the end of the line once again. The speck at the edge of the horizon that was Bree was growing steadily smaller. He raised one hand to say good-bye.  
  
And then he stopped, petrified. A figure was standing atop the hill that his family had just passed under. Olo scurried to his right, flattening himself against the grass. A twinge of fear gripped his heart, and he looked back at his family. But they had rounded a bend in the road, and were shielded from view. Olo released his breath in relief. Whoever was there would not find his children.  
  
Crawling forward silently, Olo raised his head to look at the person on the hill. It was a short man, only slightly bigger than himself, wearing a hat of some sort. Another hobbit, from the Shire, perhaps?  
  
And then another person came into view, striding out of the mist that clung to the Barrow-downs. The sun was behind his head, darkening his face. It was a Big Person, very tall and clad in the garb of war. A longbow larger than Olo was strapped across his back, and what the Hobbit could see of his face was grim and terrible.  
  
Olo pressed himself to the hill, hiding in the shade of the overhang that leaned over the road. His heart beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird, Olo fought to keep quiet, lest he be noticed. The elderly hobbit could now hear them speaking in a strange, echoing voice, as if he were hearing something from the deep recesses of the past. Olo strained to make out the words.  
  
...aye, Haim Baldandil...  
  
Olo picked up his head from the grass so that he could hear with his other ear. There was a great pause, in which he was sure that the two would discover him. But nothing happened. Olo looked up, then saw the shorter man open his mouth to speak.  
  
I do not think we will...  
  
Olo ducked back to the ground. For a short instance he was sure that the smaller man, the Haim Baldandil had seen him. There had been a spark in his eye, and then...  
  
Olo felt the slightest of rumbles in the ground. When he looked back up, the fierce warrior had departed, melting back into the mist. The other man waited, completely still, watching him go. Olo lay there for what seemed like forever, waiting for the warrior's friend, the Taim Boldmandil to leave. Thoughts raced through Olo's mind; would his family be able to settle into the Shire if he were to be lost on the road? Who would take care of Lanto and Nolo until they became of age?  
  
And then the smaller man turned around, and started back southward over the field. Olo crawled to the top of the hill, and caught sight of Tom Bolbmadil. He did not look threatening, or dangerous. He was dancing merrily, skipping away through he tall grass. Olo regarded the strange man with the blue jacket and yellow boots, and whispered quietly to himself as one who has just seen a vision and knows not whether it is true.  
  
Tom Bombadil...  
  
The bearded figure spun around in his dance, and if Olo had been sure that his eyesight was not failing him as well he would have sworn that this person, this vision, this Tom Bombadil had winked at him. And then the stranger began to sing. The wind rose up, and carried the merry, echoing voice back over the Barrow-downs until it reached Olo's ears.   
  
Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,  
Bright blue his jacket is and his boots are yellow;  
Never mistake old Tom, the oldest without father,  
His ways are ancient ways, and he's known them longer...  
  
*********  
  
Author's Notes: Here ends the tale of Iarwain Aldandil and Elrond Peredhel, I hope that you have enjoyed it. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review and critique this story, it means a lot to me (been working on it for four months, trying to get it just right).   
  
I would like to give great big thank you to my wonderful beta-reader, Thalia Weaver, who is not only a fantastic author but a terrific editor as well; and to Hellga, who proofed the names in this story for linguistic clarity.  
  
Namárië, for now,  
Meir Brin


End file.
